Final Charge
by Pop Weasel
Summary: As the title states, what the final charge of the Last Battle might be. Ghaaaa! Not.....insane.....fic...can't...breath....can't....write....serious......fic....wilting......melting.....need......Dew........~seizes up and falls to floor twitching~


The Final Charge  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own the Wheel of Time. Blah. Nor any of the characters within its pages. ~sob~  
  
Author's Note: ....the Hell!? A serious fic? From me? Arggggg it's the end of the world! Flee for your lives! Whooohooooo!!! Anyway......I just got this idea. And any horse names I don't know I've made up. Like a pop weasel can keep track of them, sheesh.... I wrote this away from my books, so there will be things wrong and spelling errors. It's just how I think the last charge to the last battle would be. Maybe I'm wrong. At any rate, this will probably be about as entertaining as a block of moldy cheese because I can't do serious fics. Don't hurt me if you don't argee, I bruise easily.  
  
  
  
  
  
There should have been light, but the golden rays of the sun that had been so bright and warm before were now only the faintest memory etched in the mind of Rand al'Thor, the Dragon Reborn.  
  
Now it was only shadows and darkness so deep that it was eternal, deep in the Blight, where nothing but evil grew. Down below in the chasm-like valley, the screams and howls of countless Trollocs rang, joined in their hellish chorus by the cries of beings even worse. Draghkar's flew circles above them, twisted once humans seeking the blood and souls of the ones gathered on the hill above them.  
  
The armies behind Rand stirred, talking amongst themselves, mingled yet divided. Rand never bothered looking behind him, so intent on this destiny laid before him. Aiel Maidens ringed him, his honor guard to the last, wearing determined expressions and their hands flickering in silent speech.  
  
Stone Dogs and Red Shieds, countless other Aiel fanned out behind them, waiting for the call to dance the spears. Aes Sedai clustered with Warders and Asha'man, going over last minute strategies.  
  
A faint smile tugged the Dragon's mouth as he heard the voice of Nynaeve rising above them all, most likely berating someone thrice her age. He did however, catch a glimpse of Lan, standing by her side, near the front lines, stonic and impassive yet ready to strike in a blink.  
  
The Atha'an Miere, so unstready without a wooden deck under their feet, hudled beside Two River bowmen.  
  
It was a shock, yet they all seemed so faint in his mind, had it really been that long since he was just the sheepherder from Emond's Field? They were already fading, faces he had known since childhood, all but one.  
  
Tam al'Thor, his father, at the front, catching his eyes and nodding once. Pride shining like a fire in the dark. Yes, he was his father.  
  
Bashere's calvary thundered even motionless, horse hooves mingling with the screams of the damned, while Mat's band fo the Red Hand broke into a rowdy song that had a few surprised Asha'man joining in.  
  
Mat Cauthon slid up beside him on Pips, silent and tense, the Horn of Valere dangling from one hand almost absently.  
  
"Free ale. They were serving free ale at the last tavern we stayed at." the gambler sighed. "Blood and bloody ashes."  
  
Perrin was there then, on Rand's other side. Stepper (or whatever the heck is his horse name, Stayer Stepper Pickle for all I know!) snorted and pawed the ground. Far away, a pack of wolves howled their challenge to the Trollocs.  
  
They didn't need to day anything, those three. Words were beyond them all.  
  
~I can't offer them anything~ Rand thought darkly.  
  
Mat leaned over suddenly and clasped his shoulder tightly then retreating before another word could be said. It was plain anyway. Good luck, and goodbye.  
  
~Nothing but the chance to live~  
  
Perrin shrugged and nodded, standing firm, the wolf's head banner flapping in the faint wind.  
  
~To save the world, I have to break it~  
  
The Band of the Red Hand's song infected a few of the more lively Warders.  
  
Bashere and the leaders of the fractions joined him at the lead.  
  
~Nothing but the choice to fight, to live or to die~  
  
"Carai an Caldazar! For the honor of the Red Eagle!" Mat shouted, standing on his stirrups and brandishing the Horn at the servents fo the Dark One.  
  
"Better say something Rand." the former blacksmith at his side intoned. "Their all here for you."  
  
~Me? For a chance to live, Perrin, but for me?~  
  
He pulled the reins on Jhendian and the stallion turned in a circle to face his  
  
~Light, is it really mine?~  
  
armies. Silence reigned, and it might have been his imagination, but the screams of the Trollocs quieted as well. The song of the Red Hand faded reluctantly and only left the sounds of banners flapping.  
  
He still said nothing, watching them watch him. He looked at the faces of those who came to die here, at Tarmon Gai'don, with him.  
  
To save the world or die trying.  
  
"I can't give you words of reassurance," he started, uncertain of what to say next. Light! It was the Last Battle!  
  
"I can't tell you if you will live or die."  
  
An Aes Sedai, wearing a brown shawl, hastily scribbled down his words while her Warder slapped himself on the forehead at her antics. Another who looked barely old enough to be a Accepted, watched him intently, here eyes large, dark and hopeful.  
  
"The only thing I can give you is the chance,"  
  
A chant broke out among the Aiel, so low he couldn't hear it, but the Maidens around him smiled.  
  
"To live or die, fighting."  
  
"We're with you Rand!" someone from Two Rivers called out.  
  
"You can go home and wait, but-"  
  
~You had that chance once, you made your decsion~  
  
"I'm going to stay and finish this." Rand wheeled Jhendian back around, ignoring Mat's grin.  
  
"For the Dragon!"  
  
"For us!"  
  
Then--  
  
"Two River!"  
  
"Andor!"  
  
"Tar Valon!" shouted a Aes Sedai that sounded suspisiously like Egwene.  
  
"Tear!"  
  
"Illian!"  
  
And the names went on, each a slap in the face to the Dark One who would condem them to death.  
  
"Ready?" Mat asked.  
  
Rand smiled mirthlessly. Ready to die? The presenses in his mind that were the women he loved pulsed in unision, each nearly blinding him with a myriad of emotion.  
  
He would do this for Min. Tam. Mat. Avi. Elayne. Perrin. His friends. His mother, his father.  
  
Both of them.  
  
Saidin and saidar were embraced as one, some linking and others single yet all powerful. Light blazed up, enfolding the armies of the Dragon.  
  
"Carai an Ellisande! For the Honor of the Rose of the Sun!" came another cry in the Old Tongue.  
  
"Now!" Rand shouted, kicking his horse forward to this destiny at his feet. He would die, maybe. Not they would feel it before he did.  
  
The clear, sweet ring of a Horn sounding spurred the army onward, fling themselves forward life people gone mad. Fire and lightning rained death from the sky, Light and darkness merged.  
  
Trollocs swept forward, draghkar plunged from the skies, Fades did battle with Maidens and above it all, the beautiful ringing tones of the Horn could be heard.  
  
He knew that sound, surely as all of them did, what spurred them onward, kept them fighting for their world.  
  
It rang again, and the sound was simply hope.  
  
  
  
That just had to be the stupidest thing I've ever written in my life. So I wanted to share it with everyone. \  
  
  
  
Well, was it bad? I didn't have all the time I wanted to make it better, but.......blah. Help me out people, I can't wait until the next book comes out, it's killing me! And this was just an idea again, please be gentle. 


End file.
